Excerpts from Michael E. Berumen's book, "Do No Evil: Ethics with Applications to Economic Theory and Business," as well as writings on other topics, including animal rights, George Bush, capital punishment, Churchill, economics, God, liberalism, religion, philosophy and science.

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I suppose it is kind of preposterous that one imagines himself important enough to write down his opinions for others to read. Chattering superciliousness is one of the most infuriating things about academics and so-called intellectuals, generally, who feel compelled to share their thoughts. But here it goes, anyway.

Polemic on Politicians and Society: A Skeptics Defense of Liberalism

Reprinted from Liberal Resistance, 23 Jan 18

By Michael E. Berumen

I
don’t mean this in a personal way. It’s not about a particular politician,
though I could name many–––but I simply don’t like politicians as a class, and
that is true notwithstanding their political orientation, indeed, even when I
agree with many of their positions. There are times I might even put political
activists as a class at a close second for contempt. I was once an activist
myself, long ago, for what that’s worth. And I confess to occasional bouts of
it still when moved by idiocy in the political landscape, such as I see today
with the rise of the crypto-Confederacy and fascism. There are of course
activists and politicians that I do find likable enough in the particular, that
is, when I have more first-hand knowledge of them–––because the fact is, as a
hopelessly social being, myself, I like most everyone in the particular. My
wife assures me that this is a weakness of mine. Some find it easier to like
humanity in the abstract, a detached formulation that even seems a bit
insincere or even impossible to me, even somewhat meaningless–––whereas I like
people individually, concretely, that is, when I know them.

I
think that in order to be a politician one must possess characteristics that I
rather abhor, and first and foremost, just the fact the typical politician
presumes to know what’s best for me and seeks to arrange my life and the lives
of others, which I resent. Among other things, they assume that the economic
goods that I acquire fairly, whether it is by luck or desert, are at their
disposal––well, by virtue of their power, they truly are at their
disposal––and, further, they believe that they are in a position to tell me
what to think, and often enough they are even able to tell me how to behave,
that is, lest I run sideways of the law and suffer the consequences.

Then
there are there are the constant self-congratulatory declarations of doing well
by others–––of selfless service and sacrifice–––usually ostensibly directed as
testimony about other politicians, disingenuously, for in actuality it is
intended to reflect more upon themselves. More on that in a moment. Also, I am
perturbed by the fact that politicians of every persuasion possess a kind of
personal grandiosity, a sense of self most likely entirely unjustified–––a
belief they are specially endowed or entitled, with a destiny to fulfill some
end-state conception of theirs with benefits that will inure to the rest of us.

Then
there’s the matter of lying. Now, human beings lie, almost (I say almost not
quite believing it is even just almost) without exception–––and sophisticated
psychological studies show people lie astonishingly often, granted, usually on
unimportant things, but often enough on important ones, too. But most human
beings are not governing large numbers of other human beings, so some liars are
more important than other liars in terms of their impact. Here’s the rub that
would set politicians all atwitter in denial: in a true democracy with a
population consisting of people with a wide range of interests and capacities,
in order to succeed, politicians must be untruthful, either by commission or
omission, and if not in a blatant way, then in a vague, slippery sort of way,
and usually a bit of both–––for in no other manner could they at once appeal to
different constituencies with different and, often enough, opposing interests
and still be elected. We are all liars, it’s
just a fact and there’s no denying it without lying again. But as opposed to
most of us, politicians make their livings at lying, and we pay their way. Let
me put it another way: one must be something of a scoundrel in order to succeed
as a politician.

An
honest ideologue would be no better, though, even if he were elected to office,
for an ideologue is by definition unyielding and doctrinaire, and he imagines
that the fulfillment of his principles is paramount and above all other
concerns, and contrary facts on the ground or opinions of others are very
unlikely to alter his view. A dishonest ideologue is even worse, of course. And
there’s a good chance he will be, for, as I said, people lie, and in this
particular case, with a fanatical ideologue, lies can have big consequences to
many, often resulting in authoritarianism. Dishonesty is simply something we
must accept in a democracy, that is, if we are to have it, which, as Winston
Churchill averred, is the worst possible system except for all
the rest.

As
I suggested before, no one perpetuates the idea of public service and their
personal sacrifice, and the sacrifices of their peers–––even their opponents
(usually only when dead, though!)–––more than a politician, which is more often
than not simply another means of self-justification. It nauseates me when I
hear politicians praise one another for their service in obsequy at funerals,
as though they suffer great travail out of duty or encounter untoward danger
when seeking power over the rest of us. Heroes among them are few and far in
between. It is simply self-praise for a predilection for meddlesomeness. I do
not mean to say that political achievement is never actuated by good intentions
with even noble ends in mind. But I think there is usually more selfishness
behind it than noblesse oblige, and that in at least equal
measure there is a desire to fulfil personal ambition, even glory, and
certainly to gain the satisfaction that comes from having power and control
over others, not to mention their approbation. A politician by his very nature
is something of a narcissist, some being more of one than others. I don’t find
such people worthy of admiration, generally, though I confess I do make
exceptions. But this isn’t about the exceptions–––it’s about most of them.

As
for patriotism, it is an emotion akin to supporting a favorite sports team. A
perfectly human one, mind you, but a feeling rooted in tribalism. It is not
altogether dissimilar to what gang members feel about their band of brothers.
And the various symbols that accompany it–––flags, songs, and statues and
such–––are akin to a gang’s or sport team’s various totems. Love of country is
love of an abstraction, one that is idealized, usually a conception that
doesn’t even exist in the real world. This is not to suggest that I am
personally devoid of such feelings, as I am human and being human I too have
tribal feelings; but I do view them as primitive, and not especially worthy of
rational men, something reason should seek to overcome, control, and not feed.
Such emotions, these clannish feelings of patriotism–––or in its more energetic
manifestations, nationalism and jingoism–––are the source of considerable evil
in the world, a principal cause of many, no most horrible wars
and much suffering.

With
that said, I do separate patriotism–––the love of country and the (not
uncommon) feelings of one’s country’s superiority or exceptional nature–––from duty to
country. By that I mean the sense of duty owed to the society that has offered
one certain benefits and protections, and also the duty to one’s neighbors and
family, or more broadly speaking, the duty to one’s countrymen.
I have a rather Socratic view of this, which is to say, I obey the laws of my
country and fulfil the duties assigned to me (within the limits of good
conscience and what I deem to be morally right), such as paying taxes, not
committing crimes, obeying contract laws, and even defending it when it becomes
necessary. Much as Socrates refused exile instead of death when found in
violation of Athenian law of corrupting the youth and such–––a society from
which he said he gained much and, he believed, had a duty to obey–––I think one
acquires a certain set of duties just by living in a society and must adhere to
the consequences of its laws. I do see limits to this, and a place for
conscientious objection. I do not subscribe to the Socratic view that one owes
his very life to the state, though I think one can argue we sometimes owe a
great deal. This will obviously vary by the kind of societal arrangements we
have, and the benefits we derive from it. While I might not have explicitly signed-up
for or accepted these duties, neither did I explicitly deny the benefits or
opportunities bestowed upon me, many or even most of which I took for granted.
Therefore, my acceptance of those duties is at least to some degree implied by
my having also freely taken advantage of the benefits bestowed upon me. The
matter of choice certainly enters into the matter and can be a mitigating
factor. We do not have a choice as to where we are born or even in many
instances where we sometimes end up living. There are times the institutions of
a society are so unjust that they must be resisted at great cost, and thereby
other duties are justifiably nullified.

My
political views can be summarized fairly simply. I subscribe to tolerance, not
of everything, but of differences that obtain in society that do me no harm,
and, therefore, to pluralism; believe that the material goods and assets fairly
acquired by others belong to them to own and dispose of as
they see fit, with some constraints (such as not causing undue suffering by
virtue of one’s use of the property); believe in the rule of law, and not the
caprice of men (understanding that civil disobedience is sometimes defensible);
hold that people ought to have the right to choose their leaders; believe that
minorities have rights that need to be protected from oppressive majorities; accept
the role of logic and science, which is to say, reason, and as such I eschew
both superstition and ignorance. I therefore suppose I am properly
characterized as a liberal, to resurrect the
once venerable appellation that has been sullied in recent decades.

I
do not hew to any overarching system of ends from which all other social
principles are derived, which characterizes an ideologue–––that is, beyond the
most rudimentary kind of moral principles that can be derived from conjoining
two distinct concepts into one, namely, impartiality and rationality,
the former meaning without bias, the latter meant in the psychological sense of
rational behavior. The conjoint principle of impartial rationality underlies
a moral code that can be universal, which is to say, applicable everywhere, by
everyone, and at all times. We know, for example, it is irrational for one to
choose his own suffering (or death) without another, greater reason (such as to
avoid greater pain, as surgery might require, or to protect a loved one), and
if we act impartially, we extend this basic, rational prohibition
to others, and without regard to the benefits or disadvantages for one’s own
self or others about whom we care. This is a long way of saying that the
guiding principle of universal morality is to avoid causing unjustified suffering,
and that all other just principles are derived therefrom.

No
one could reason that we ought to promote happiness as a universal requirement,
though, or some other conception of the good, for there is no objective
standard of reference for such ideas upon which all rational people would
agree. However, there is such a standard for suffering and death, and
specifically for their avoidance, that is, without an overriding reason. It is
a condition of
rationality. Conceptions of the good–––the things we believe we ought to
promote or act upon for society as a whole or for people individually––cannot
be similarly universalized as requirements (unlike a rational prohibition, the
avoidance of suffering) to apply to everyone in a way that all rational people
would agree, for there are no objective standards of reference to validate what
one person thinks is good versus another’s conception. Nothing in rationality
or reason suggests we should prefer one conception of good over another, but it
does require we not seek to suffer (or die) for its own sake.

Democratic
political systems are theoretically manifestations of our ends, our desires,
which reason can lead us to fulfill by various means–––but ends that are in and
of themselves not determined by reason, as David Hume famously showed, but are
desires arising from passion. Reason does provide us with means to ends,
though, and can aid us in avoiding suffering unless justified, a principle we
all would extend to others if we act impartially. We can also formulate
exceptions to rules dictated by impartial rationality, rules such as do not lie
or kill, when given specific facts. The justification can be made by using the
same formula–––universalizing it impartially such that I, too, or another whom
I care about, could as easily be the victim or beneficiary of it, given the
same essential facts of the matter. Thus, thereby, one might universalize an
exception to a rule against lying to protect an individual from a life-threatening
circumstance, e.g., telling the Nazi one is not hiding Jews in the
basement–––or formulate that the suffering that will surely attend war will be
outweighed by the lives it will save and greater suffering it will prevent.
This, impartial rationality, is the formula by which all political (and
economic) rules and acts ought to be judged, indeed, by which all social acts
ought to be judged. My ethical and political philosophy can be summed up in two
words, namely, impartial rationality, and I submit it is the
very essence and sine qua non of
liberalism.

There
are things that trouble me about self-described leftists. Foremost among them
is their certainty about how others ought to live their lives. But also one of
the left’s hallmark characteristics is the focus on motives or on “good”
intentions, and the emphasis on what lies behind an act or prescription, that
which it is assumed gives the act its moral meaning and merit. I reject this
Kantian outlook, though I accept much else of what Immanuel Kant says about
morality, especially in relation to impartiality (his categorical imperative,
though flawed as he has devised it, is essentially a formula to achieve
impartial universality), and also his defense of democracy and individual
liberty. Morality is about what wedo,
though, not simply about what we feel or believe, or about our intentions.
Sentiment and belief are worthless, that is, unless followed by the right act.
Would that it were as easy as simply believing a certain way! In this leftists
share much with various religious doctrines, most notably Christian doctrines
that consider morality to be more about what we believe than about what we
actually do.

And
as with Christians of various stripes, some on the left also believe there is
something impure about wanting or acquiring property, or to make a profit in
the process of exchange, expending labor, investing one’s goods to acquire even
more, or even by serendipity. The New Testament itself
tells us that it is hard for the rich to enter Heaven. The profit motive is
seen as being selfish, a character flaw, and one to be eschewed. As if
self-proclaimed selflessness and the satisfaction derived thereby were not in
and of itself a form of hubris and selfishness. Profit is conceived as
something not based in moral desert, and profit-taking is seen as a zero-sum
proposition, whereby someone gains, someone loses. The leftist sometimes
subscribes more to a kind of theology than empirical economics. This disdain
for commerce and profit dates back at least to Plato’s Laws.
And while it is less important to Christian thought today, especially in
Protestant theology, it is manifest throughout early Christian literature and
Scripture, and it was profoundly influential in the development of many leftist
doctrines.

So-called
capitalists (I am not one–––I believe both capitalist acts and
socialist acts can be justified, and not in a
“system” consisting only of one at the exclusion of the other) are wrong to say
capitalism is justified because it is more efficient than state-ownership of
economic goods or state-controlled pricing––even though an abundance of
empirical evidence suggests that this is the case. Efficiency is not a
moral criterion. Taken to an extreme, a strict utilitarian argument could leave
a great many people impoverished or enslaved in order to maximize average
prosperity. This is the great flaw with libertarian economic arguments favoring
profit above all else in commerce, such as some of the arguments made by
economist Milton Friedman. Private property and its disposition–––how we use
it, can be justified on moral grounds, when it is property that is fairlyacquired (not
mystically instantiated by labor, a la Locke, Marx, and Rand––which would
bestow property on both oxen and horses), but also only when its use does not
cause others to suffer, for morality always trumps efficiency.

The
political right bases much of its dogma on moral desert. Rightists often ignore
the singular advantage of good fortune, e.g., being born in a particular place
and time, genetic advantages, and having particular experiences such as
accidents of coming in contact with the right people at the right time,
including a particular kind of upbringing. They ignore luck,
in other words. They imagine the things they acquire result entirely from their
own effort–––a kind of magical thinking. The corollary is that the privations
of others are in some manner their own fault–––and often enough believed to
result from slothfulness or shiftlessness, or in some cases because god wills it
to be so. They ignore the advantages bestowed upon them that they had nothing
to do with, ones others did not have through no fault or moral deficiency of
their own. Consequently, they often are more loath to share their gains, for
example, through taxation, notwithstanding the fact that simple luck and the
benefits of society (protection of the law) might have made possible much of
what they have.

People
on both the right and the left make a fetish out of democracy, but neither side
really cares much for it when they don’t like the result. Democracy is a very
messy kind of business––and, let’s face it, people are often not very smart and
they sometimes even operate against their own interests, or at least what
others (including me) believe to be in their interest–––and that’s part of the point.
Who gets to decide this? And why should someone else be in charge of deciding
my interests or, similarly, why should I be in charge of deciding another’s? I
am not fond of stupid people coming together at the ballot box to tell me how
to live. On the other hand, there’s little evidence to suggest that smart
people are any better, and, plenty of evidence to suggest they can be equally
or even more dangerous when given unencumbered power. There is unfortunately no
good alternative to democracy, certainly not authoritarianism or anarchy,
though I’d take my chances with the latter over the former. Over time,
democracy tends to work out, but not always––and the tyranny of the majority
always remains problematic, which is why a system of law and representative procedure
are necessary to protect individual rights from mob rule or from the opinion of
the moment–––laws made by elected representatives who, though largely dishonest
and self-serving themselves, are still much more likely through reflection and
compromise to come up with something more sensible than what we’d get with a
direct democracy.

Of
course, leftists often prattle on about “the people”–––holding this disembodied
abstraction as their special and abiding interest. They make a fetish of the
poor too, and yet, studies show they do little themselves out of their own
pocket for the poor. The reality is that much of what “the people” really
desire is eschewed by the left, that is, their superstitions, tastes, values,
and habits. The left has contempt for their unwashed ways–––ways they would
hope to change to suit their conception of how “the people” ought to be, as
opposed to how they really are. So the
left comforts itself, deludes itself, really, with a belief that “the people”
are just being misled and are ignorant of the true facts, and if they only knew
them, they’d come running to their righteous cause. The unlettered and
uncultured ways of the underclass are seen as manifestations of their
victimization in the class struggle. Of course, this is mostly rubbish, for the
rabble genuinely prefers its rabbling ways, and even think their would-be
do-gooders on the left consists of wild-eyed, impractical kooks. In reality,
“the people” have disdain in equal measure for their would-be protectors as the
latter truly have for them; but they are not in denial about it. This is not to
say that I am a fan of the mores of the unwashed masses. I am not a devotee to
some wooly-minded abstraction about “the people” or “the working man,” nor do I
believe in some sort of special virtue of the poor. Such nonsense has helped
give rise to Trumpism, a modern form and American species of fascism, in our own time, and in no small
measure facilitated by the pandering of the media. I reject the idea on
empirical grounds that one economic class is inherently more virtuous than
another, or even that virtue accompanies literacy and education, for it plainly
doesn’t. The rise of Hitler, after all, occurred in arguably the most literate
society on earth in the early 1930s.

The
political right is of course fascinated by and loves authority, despite its
occasional paeans to individual liberty. In reality, liberty is the furthest
thing from the typical rightists’ mind, especially as it pertains to the
liberty of others. Liberty for themselves, maybe, though the typical rightist
is quite enamored of structure and hierarchy. They require strong father
figures to tell themselves and especially others how to behave, to provide
rules of conduct for society, and of course, to punish the wicked who violate
them. They like order, regularity, predictability–––and they generally deplore
non-conformity. They also share with the left a disdain for people with whom
they disagree, and at their most ideological, they are every bit as intolerant.
People on the ideological left, of course, imagine they are more tolerant, but
they often are not, and left to their own devices many would just as soon have
people with whom they disagree ostracized or put in a re-education camp.

The
right seems to have a special love of symbolism and abstractions such as flag
and country, the latter being more idealized than anything, and often enough
based on some halcyon time from the past that never really existed as they
imagine it did. They seldom love their countrymen as they really are; rather, they
love those who think as they do and more often than not they despise the rest.
So love of country is quite conditional.

The
right also is especially apt to see punishment, retribution, as the proper
solution to get others to obey and to obtain justice, whereas the left is more
inclined to rehabilitation and second chances. It is perhaps not unexpected
therefore that the right prefers strongmen as leaders, whereas the left prefers
nurturers. Both are susceptible to cults of personality. In fact, the populations
constituting the greatest cults were under leftist rule in the 20th century, notably the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic
of China. People on the right and left are not nearly as different from one
another as they’d like to believe in terms of their vulnerabilities and
naiveté. It is not surprising that many on the right tend to be religious and
seek the ultimate father figure in their belief in a supreme being who brings
order to the universe. People on the left often settle for some cosmic notion
of justice––natural law or a dialectical progressivism––social forces that
inexorably lead to the left’s idealized version of the just society–––but they
also can put great store in charismatic leaders who are seen to be more
“caring” for people, more “mothering” nurturers as opposed to the stern father
figures that the right so often prefers.

Finally,
lest someone mistake my point of view, I believe so-called moderation can be as
much a fetish as the various shibboleths of the right and left­­­, and that
moderation it is more a matter of temperament or technique than a
well-formulated position. At its worst it can be a cowardly outlook,
compromising when there should be no compromise. At its best it can be
accepting compromise for a greater good as a matter of tactical necessity.
There can be no truly “moderate” political view, for what would that
be–––something in between true and false or right and wrong? An Aristotelian
mean of sorts? What I am arguing for, here, is a liberal outlook, properly understood,
and I am arguing against tribalism, silliness, and pretense. I am not promoting
cynicism, but I am promoting skepticism. I am arguing against both leftist and
rightest comprehensive and invariant systems from which all principles are held
to flow, and instead, arguing that social principles should flow from logic and
evidence, and that before formulating a position, that we should consider how
the essential properties of the facts at hand bear on other, similar instances,
and ask ourselves if such a position can be willed impartially to apply
to all without regard to how we ourselves might benefit or lose in the same
circumstances. I am arguing for making exceptions to principles based on
universalizable and impartial prescriptions. Most of all, I am arguing for the
conjoint principle of impartial rationality–––and
for healthy skepticism about those who presume to arrange our lives through
political activity. Such people are necessary to a well-ordered and just
society–––and they will be with us as long as there are more than a handful of
people–––but these people and their ideas always must be put into proper
perspective and viewed through a skeptical lens.

Michael Berumen is a retired
business executive and published author on diverse topics including economics,
mathematics, and philosophy. He resides with his wife in Colorado. He is the
author of the book Do No Evil: Ethics with Applications to Economic Theory and
Business. He has been writing about and warning against Fascism in America and
Trump for several years.